Fic: Fly Away, Part II
Title: Fly Away, Part II
Authors: diane_kepler and sydpenguinbunny
Length: 6000 wds
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Breaking Bad
Characters: Walt / Jesse
Genres: angst, first time, humor, pwp
Spoilers: Season 3x10
Summary: There's a contaminant in the lab. Jesse needs to distract Mr. White before he goes completely off his rocker.
Notes: Originally written as a RP with diane_kepler as Walt and sydpenguinbunny as Jesse.
Jesse stands before rolling his neck to crack it, feeling kind of stupid with his pants half-off. "What're we doing?" he asks.
"Lie down where I was," Mr. White watches closely as Jesse does this, before stripping him from the waist down. "Now. If you feel yourself getting distracted use this." He wraps one of Jesse's hands around own cock. "To keep things in the moment, got it?"
Jesse nods, not trusting his voice, closes his eyes and feels, for the first time since this whole thing started, kind of relaxed and open to what seems to be happening.
"Knees in to your chest Jesse. That's right." Mr. White mutters he shakes some more lube out of the jar. "I would've thought one would've been enough for you, but oh no."
Jesse looks at Mr. White quizzically. "One what, one finger? Jeez, Mr. White, it's not like I ever do this, other than one time I got drunk back in high school..." He trails off.
"Not one finger, one orgasm Jesse, pay attention. I'm trying to keep your mind in one place. Think you can manage that?" He pushes back in with his two fingers, less gently this time.
Jesse gasps out and flushes. "Yeah, my mind's definitely right here." He grunts quietly and then goes on, "Y'know, when you did this before... you were on top, right? 'Cause it's different being down here, y'know. Your stuff is easy."
Both of Mr. White's eyebrows go up to practically where his hair would've started if he'd had any. He stops again.
"Jesse. Rule one?"
"Yeah?"
"Means 'tell me what you're feeling' -- that's good, that hurts, less, more. It doesn't mean 'say whatever comes into your head'."
"Sorry," Jesse apologizes as he goes red in the cheeks, looking at Mr. White with a mix of trepidation and lust. "I get talky when I fuck..."
Mr. White just looks at him. "You think?"
But then he does something new with his fingers and suddenly Jesse has no more breath to say anything. Instead, he just squeezes his eyes shut, tilting his head back and trying to decide what he just felt; it was like a rush of heat or a spark, or something he can't quite define.
"Talk to me Jesse. Good or bad?"
"I don't know! Do it again so I can figure it out!"
There's another push.
"Good!" Jesse yelps out. "Good, good, fuck, yes, good!"
And there's that smile again. "You're lucky. Not every guy gets off on being touched that way."
"Y'ever seen that movie Contact? Well that - that was like the fucking end!" Jesse says, squirming.
"Unbelievable," Mr. White mutters and touches him again. He doesn't wait for a word or a reaction, he just hits that same spot over and over until Jesse's vision is just white and his soft cock is twitching and drooling all over his hand. There's more and more until the older man pushes in a third finger and can't go as deep anymore. Pain flares, hard and bright.
Jesse sucks in his breath, trying not to react, but he lets out a little whimper. He strokes his cock slowly, hoping it will relax him, but he's starting to forget how to move most of his muscles and his brain just keeps firing half-words and noises. The three fingers work even harder. They grind into Jessie and ease him open until Mr. White's not just kneeling beside him on the floor anymore but he's up on the couch and using some of his weight to do the work. He's got one of Jesse's legs over his shoulder and ridge he feels pressed into the back of one thigh leave no doubt about Mr. White's intentions, if there ever were any, anyway.
"Oh God," Jesse gasps, pushing back against Mr. White's fingers and letting his mind drift to, yet again, the question of how he'd gotten here. Oh yeah, the fly. There'd been a fly. It's about all he can picture in the moments when his mind goes utterly blank.
The sound of a clinking belt and a zipper brings Jesse back into it. That and Mr. White's face, drawn, as he concentrates on getting more lube where it needs to be. Then he lines up and pushes himself around in the slick. It's almost like he's teasing, thought whether it's Jesse or himself is up in the air. Like his asshole, practically. Fuck.
"Still want it?" comes the prompt.
"Yeah," Jesse whispers.
Mr. White pushes in.
Jesse squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a pained little gasp, reaching out and clinging to Mr. White's hand. "Nnn-fuck," he murmurs.
"You're good, you're good, just . . . ." Mr. White sinks in a little more. "Ohgod. Just stay relaxed and keep pushing. There. Ahh. There you go. That's it, yes. I'm almost -" He let's out a grunt and sinks the last bit of the way, his free hand on the leg that's up against his chest, his expression blissed-out in a way that Jesse's never seen.
Jesse gasps, and he's no longer sure whether he's gasping in pain or something undefinable. "Fuck, you're... shit... you're in me... "
Mr. White holds up long enough to actually laugh and that's something really new. "Uh, yeah. You're good though, right?"
"I think so," Jesse whispers, "Just don't go too hard... it's kind of a lot."
"Right," says Mr. White and it's like he's talking about more than just his cock.
He tries some shallow thrusts, watching Jesse for signs that it's going one way or the other, sometimes even pausing and closing his eyes. The more time that goes by, though, the better it feels and pretty soon Jesse's starting to move around a bit on his own.
"Mr. White - unh. This is good...," Jesse babbles, putting one hand over his mentor's while beginning to stroke himself with the other. The older man gives the hand a quick squeeze, but then drops his down to Jesse's hip so he can get more leverage. The rhythm keeps changing too, sometimes slow, sometimes faster. And if that goes on much more it's gonna keep him from coming again.
Jesse rocks his hips to meet the thrusts, groaning out his words. "Unh - fuck - yes - more - please - shit..."
Mr. White tucks his chin and changes the angle of his stroke. But the rhythm's still off. There are these long pauses sometimes; it's like Mr. White's trying to tease him. But then Jesse figures it out - Mr. White's trying to hold back. It's really good for him, but he's trying to give Jesse a better time, maybe thinking about baseball or chemical formulas or shit. Which would be okay, except now it's starting to hurt even more, and Jesse's really not gonna come. So he tries something else.
"Mr. White, talk to me. Please."
"Talk?" He stops, hands tight on Jesse's hips. He looks confused.
Jesse groans. "No, don't stop! Just... I don't know." He's figured out that Mr. White's voice turns him on. But there’s no way he’s gonna come right out and say it.
"Sorry," he says, and it might be the first time Mr. White's apologized, ever, "but I don't -"
And then Mr. White bites off whatever was going to say and just moves into Jesse some more.
"Unh," Jesse grunts. He pushes the idea from his mind.
Mr. White's next words come out of nowhere. "So good." He says. His eyes are closed and he's concentrating on something. His voice is hoarse with need and with everything else too. "So hot, Jesse. So tight."
"Yeah," Jesse shivers, moaning out. "Just like that - please - fuck - yes..."
"I want to . . . " and Mr. White's hips speed up. The glow from their fucking is lapping all through Jesse now now and he feels open and randy as hell. "You're amazing." He grits his teeth on the last word and gives an extra-hard stroke that touches that spot again.
"Gonna give you . . ."
"Yeah!" Jesse answers.. "Oh God, Mr. White, goddamn..."
"Wanted this . . ." and with that strangled cry he loses it. Mr. White presses his face into Jesse's calf, breathing hard through his open mouth and shuddering uncontrollably. Jesse doesn't know if it's the vibrations or that last throaty sound, but he goes over the edge again too and it's incredible, like being a thousand miles in the air.
They stay like that for awhile, or at least until Jesse's leg starts to cramp and he has to move it to the floor, making Mr. White have to brace himself on the couch, and hang his head, panting, not falling onto Jesse because it's not like they're going steady or any shit like that. But still . . .
Jesse swallows and gazes at the older man. "Mr. White?"
He pants. Licks his lips. "Yeah?"
Jesse reconsiders what he's about to say only a moment before he blurts it out. "This isn't weird for you, is it? I mean you said you wanted it, right?"
Mr. White blinks a bunch of times.
Jesse reaches out and grabs Mr. White's hand, immediately feeling stupid, but trying to hold on because he can feel everything slipping. "Just..." he sighs. "it's okay, right?"
Feelings chase each other across the other man's face. But then it all falls into itself and even though Mr. White is still inside of him, it's like they're not together at all.
He pulls out, back, and away in less time than it takes to think.
"Clean up. We've got work to do."